


The Story of a Magister and the Boy Who Killed Him

by Licentious



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Choking, Eventual escape, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mild Gore, Murder, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery, Some Plot, Stockholm Syndrome, Unsafe Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 18:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Licentious/pseuds/Licentious
Summary: Adalus is a magister. Vennon is his first slave. -- PWP basically, with original characters. Purely a kink fic. An immoral kink fic. Only readers as rotten as me need proceed. READ. THE. TAGS. PLEASE AND THANK YE.





	The Story of a Magister and the Boy Who Killed Him

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING. READ THE TAGS. Vennon's age is not stated, but reads as underage, which also means UNDERAGE NON-CON. This is a kink fic. Nothing is right with this story. It's severely messed up. If you have rape fantasy kink, keep reading! If you have strong morals in your fiction readings, please move along. Other warnings include: Stockholm Syndrome, elven slavery, rape of a slave, violence, and murder. I haven't labeled this with MCD, because even though a major character of THIS story dies, he's original and therefore pretty much unimportant. Ok, I think that's it. Once again, read the tags. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
> 
> Also, this has not really been revised. I write these for kink purposes and then kind of move on.

There’s something to be said about having your own slave. Elves were not treated well in the Imperium, so choosing to allow one to live in your home was basically an act of mercy. They got to eat regular meals and they got a roof over their heads, which was a far cry from what their fates would have been were they to fend for themselves on the ruthless streets of Tevinter. Adalus certainly felt like he was being generous when he adopted that elven child, a boy barely in his teens. It had taken many days for the boy to speak, his Tevene broken and heavily accented. Adalus never quite found out what had come of the boy’s parents, but to be honest, he didn’t really care. What did it matter where the little elf had come from? The boy was his now. The only thing that mattered was training him, teaching him how to act and how to properly behave himself in his new home. That took a while.

Adalus didn’t have any other slaves before the child arrived at his home, but he took to being a slave owner rather quickly. The boy obeyed his every command well, though his movements held that uncertainty that came with the helplessness of being an orphan in a land so far from his own. Adalus was just a little too impatient to wait for the boy to grow out of that behavior, and so before the year was up, he’d purchased another two elven women, elves that had been born and raised in servitude. They served Adalus perfectly, which left the boy free to be more of a trophy than actual help. Adalus kept the boy close to him at all times, to ensure that neither of the women decided to adopt him and to alienate him from his new master.

And so the elven boy grew into a young man that answered to the name Vennon, a name gifted to him by Adalus himself. He was loyal and obedient, the magister having disciplined him properly from the very start. Truly, he couldn’t have gotten a more well-behaved slave if he’d come across him when the boy was still a baby. Adalus still had servants and his two lady slaves tend to the more menial tasks his house required, Vennon having chores that were his own. The boy was to keep their quarters clean and organized, his own room being adjacent to Adalus’s own, and to keep the man company as he studied. He’d always wanted a partner that would listen to him as he pondered over his studies, one that didn’t get to outthink him or give him any sort of attitude. Vennon had a mild interest in Adalus’s craft, which was perfect. If the boy had been too interested, he could have turned out wrong. Not interested enough and it would have taken too much effort to teach him to listen, to then interact in dialogue engaging enough to please Adalus without giving him too many airs. No, the boy had turned out perfect. 

Despite Vennon having easily become one of Adalus’s favorite persons, their relationship had remained platonic for many years. The man was too intent on his own studies to have the patience for small talk, which he generally did not entertain. He didn’t partake in conversations regarding slavery in general, or more specifically what his friends and acquaintances used their own slaves for, and so the thought had simply never crossed his mind. Even the two women that he bought were kept at a safe distance from him, though that was mostly because he found them distasteful. They were poor both in appearance and in mental faculties. The boy he’d educated well enough, but the women were a lost cause from the start.

Adalus was drunk the first time he laid his hands on Vennon. He’d been to a composium that day, and some of the other magisters had managed, as was the custom, to drive him to a silent frenzy. He’d taken his rage home, where he;d nursed it with a couple bottles of very fine wine. Vennon had sat by his side the entire time, listening to his disjointed ranting with a patience that had been taught over the years. He pitched in when the silence called for it, kept his mouth shut when Adalus was caught up in his own thoughts, and offered him everything he needed moments before Adalus even knew he wanted it. He was just the partner Adalus wanted and needed. The boy was perfect.

Vennon was old enough now, but certainly still inexperienced. Adalus reached for him thoughtlessly at first, his desire flaring suddenly and strongly enough to shock even himself. Vennon did not speak, but neither did he resist Adalus’s touch. The man drew the elf to him, running his hands down the boy’s wiry frame and burying his face into the kid’s neck. He smelled familiar, the scent shooting right down Adalus’s spine and pooling in his groin. He drew the boy towards his bed and the boy came. Moments later he’d pinned him down on the mattress face-down, the boy’s tunic hiked up as he struggled with the ties of his own trousers. He panted against the elven boy’s ear as he slid his erection between the boy’s legs, sliding into the space between his thighs. He didn’t penetrate him, not nearly lucid enough to either think of the option or to manage it, had it been his intent. He just fucked into the soft flesh of his thighs, hands wandering under Vennon’s clothing to caress his skin until he came. He climaxed with a grunt, spilling his seed onto Venn and onto his own bedding, feeling both heated and oddly content.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, only waking up the next morning to an empty bed, feeling less stressed than he had in a very long time. He had someone call for the boy, remembering clearly the events of the previous night. Vennon came promptly, bringing with him some fruit for breakfast. Adalus thanked him and sat with him to eat, his gaze never leaving Vennon’s form. The very sight of him was different now, his flesh not only familiar, but laden with new possibility. Vennon didn’t act any differently, which was a little curious, but not important enough for Adalus to concern himself too much.

“Take off your clothes, boy,” he commanded when they were finished eating. Vennon met his gaze, almost surprised, but Adalus held his eyes with a hunger that clearly stated his intent. He was a lot more lucid now that the alcohol had left his system, and he had many new things he wished to try. “Strip down and climb into my bed. I have a desire to fuck you properly today.”

“Yes...master,” Vennon said after the briefest hesitation. His clothing fell to the floor in short order, Adalus watching him the entire time.

The boy’s flesh was pale, since Adalus rarely allowed him outside. He was lean, not too strong, since Adalus didn’t provide him with anything manual to do, but well-fed. He was supple. He was beautiful. And, more importantly, he was Adalus’s. Vennon blushed under his master’s gaze, pausing only a moment before following the rest of his orders and climbing onto the bed. The magister then stood and wandered over to where he kept his jar of oil, for when he wanted to pleasure himself at night. It was only fitting he’d get to use it on his boy, now. He had Vennon lie on his back this time, legs spread and held up as Adalus worked two slicked fingers into the tight pucker of his ass. Vennon’s head turned to the side, eyes shut as he bit down on his lip, though Adalus could tell that it wasn’t from pain. He watched the boy carefully as he worked him open, wanting to witness the moment when that discomfort turned into pleasure.

“It feels good, does it?” he asked a few moments later, when Vennon’s breathing had picked up, his own dick twitching hesitantly against his stomach. The boy nodded, but didn’t respond vocally. Adalus decided to let it slide that one time. He worked another finger in, smirking at Vennon’s soft moan. He scissored his fingers, feeling the wet warmth of the boy’s channel and wanting nothing more than to slide into it. He ran his free hand up and down the boy’s trembling thigh, then pressed it against the throbbing in his own pants. He’d thrown something loose-fitting on that morning, but it felt constricting beyond measure now.

He slipped his fingers out of Vennon and tugged his pants down, releasing his twitching erection. Vennon opened his eyes, watching his master with a guarded, but heated, expression. Adalus leaned down into him.

“Put your legs around me,” he said softly. Vennon obeyed instantly. Adalus used one hand to position himself, his cockhead nudging up against Vennon’s balls before sliding into his slicked-up hole. He grunted as he pressed in, meeting some resistance, but not enough to keep him out.

“M-Master,” Vennon grunted, his legs tightening around Adalus’s back. The magister gave a hard thrust and slid into him, both elf and mage gasping. Adalus moaned loudly and thrust again, sheathing himself all the way in. Vennon was so very tight, and so warm. He reached one hand down to wrap around the boy’s erection, palm still slick from the oil he’d used to open the boy up. He worked his hand up and down the boy’s length as he started to fuck into him. The feeling of Venn’s channel pressing against Adalus’s cock so tightly was truly unmatched. The boy was gasping with each thrust. Adalus had to bite down on his soft neck to keep from making such noises himself.

“Whose are you?” he asked, voice hoarse despite keeping mostly quiet.

“Y-Yours,” was Vennon’s immediate response. “Master.”

“Do you like this?” he asked next, fucking into him harder. Their skin slid against each other, his balls slapping against the soft flesh of Vennon’s ass.

“Y-yes, Master,” Vennon responded, whining softly. He threw his head back, eyes shut again, cheeks red and lips spit-slick. Adalus didn’t think twice when the urge came to him to lean down and kiss the boy. He nipped at his lips, then speared his tongue into the wet cavern of his mouth. Vennon was uncertain what to do, but it didn’t matter to Adalus, who was content enough to fuck him both with his tongue and with his dick.

It didn’t take him much longer to come. He grunted his release into the boy’s mouth, spilling his hot seed right into the elf’s ass. Vennon gasped softly at the unfamiliar feeling, then gasped again when Adalus sped up the pace of his hand, jerking him off much more aggressively.

“Come for me, boy,” he ordered.

Vennon whined, loudly, and came.

 

That was not the only time they had sex. After their first time, Adalus made a habit of calling on the boy to please him in the mornings, as well as bringing him to bed with him at night to fuck into until he was satisfied. Sometimes Vennon fell asleep with him. The first time Adalus had woken up to find the boy in his bed, he’d straddled his head and, before the boy had woken up properly, slid his morning wood through his pliant lips. Venn woke up gasping, but Adalus proceeded to fuck his mouth in quick, shallow thrusts, grunting softly as he chased his climax. He pulled out moments before coming, stripping his dick with his hand and spilling his seed all over the boy’s face instead.

“That was quite lovely,” he panted, patting the boy on his cheek, though his eyes were still blinking in surprise at what had just occurred. “Go get cleaned up and bring us something to eat. I’ll rest a while longer.”

 

Adalus didn’t quite realize when the tension between them started to build. By the time he became aware of it, of the charged feeling in the air whenever the two of them were alone, it was too late to circumvent it. A new habit had formed, and Adalus was helpless to change. Vennon continued to come to him when he called, and to come for him when he commanded. Though Adalus was aware that something between them was being irrevocably strained, it really was difficult to care when he was balls-deep in the boy’s ass, fucking into him roughly under the mid-afternoon sun in his private garden.

But something was definitely different. Something about Vennon had changed. Adalus had awakened him to something new, and the elven boy was learning, planning something that Adalus kept forgetting about whenever the two of them were together. The boy was intoxicating. The only thing keeping him from being inside Vennon all the time was his own limits as a human, magic aside.

“Tell me, boy” he said late one evening when the two of them were done fucking and lay panting on his bed. “What we do,” he continued, “you like it, do you not?” He wondered for a moment if he’d stop, should Vennon answer in the negative.

“I do, Master,” came Vennon’s instant response, but Adalus doubted the trained timing.

“I want you to answer me honestly, Vennon,” he pressed, his own voice getting colder. Though Vennon had done nothing wrong, he felt his ire rising.

“I am being honest, sir,” Vennon insisted. The boy pushed himself up on one elbow, meeting Adalus’s gaze shamelessly. “I am yours, and I take pleasure in you reminding me of that. Of you showing everyone.”

Adalus paused at that, mulling it over. He chewed over a few possible responses, but eventually settled on something pithy. The night ended with him coming down Vennon’s throat one more time, after he tested the boy’s honesty by ordering him to suck him off, which the elf did skillfully and without hesitation.

There really was nothing substantial that he could put his finger on, but he couldn’t convince himself that there wasn’t something wrong.  _ ‘Perhaps it is my conscience,’ _ he wondered briefly, a thought which was followed by boisterous laughter. Tevinter was altogether the wrong place for one to develop a conscience, and Adalus was not one to make such a mistake. No, it was something else, but the boy continued to prove his loyalty and dedication at every turn, passing each one of Adalus’s tests with little to no effort. After a few months, Adalus decided to let it go.

A full year had passed from that first night they spent together when Adalus found himself doing something else for the first time. He brought Vennon with him outdoors. The boy had been kept at his residence his entire life with Adalus, seeing the sun only in the safety and privacy of Adalus’s gardens. He wasn’t kept a secret, often being paraded in front of Adalus’s rare guests, but the magister had never felt comfortable with the idea of Vennon leaving the walls of his residence. Even after Vennon had proven himself perfectly obedient, he just didn’t want to dangle the carrot of freedom in front of the boy. But people change, and just as their relationship had changed, so did Adalus’s determination to keep Vennon safely caged in his mansion.

“You will behave yourself tonight,” he’d told the elf as they’d gotten ready. He’d had a new set of clothes made for Vennon for that precise occasion.

“Yes, Master.”

“You will not speak unless I give you express permission.”

“Of course, sir.”

“You will touch no one but myself, and even that you will do with caution. You shall not be seen as capricious or willful.”

“I am not capricious or willful, my lord,” Vennon patiently insisted. “I will not shame you.”

“Good.”

And that had been that. A carriage took them to the party, a ball held by one of Adalus’s closest friends, as far as he had friends. It was a somewhat large event, crowded with faces both familiar and not. True to his word, Vennon behaved himself, keeping close to Adalus but never touching and always a few steps behind. The first few people Adalus greeted didn’t even notice the boy, and Vennon gave no outwardly reaction when someone ventually did.

“It is so strange to see that elf of yours out in the open,” one particularly brave mage commented, to which Adalus merely laughed.

“Not as strange as it is to see you at a gathering such as this one,” was his response. The mage blanched, but said nothing back. Only a fool would purposefully stroke the ire of a magister. For all Adalus knew, the night went on splendidly. Nothing really went wrong. Nothing was amiss. He returned home that night feeling that his colleagues had been appropriately respectful of him, and that everything was all right. If Vennon was a little absent-minded during their session that night, he didn’t notice, being too caught up in his own satisfaction to care.

 

But Vennon was distracted that night. The boy had had an encounter that his master was unaware of during the party, and it kept popping back up in his mind. Vennon didn’t come that night, though he was hard as his master rutted into him from behind. He rubbed his own erection against the soft sheets, but when Adalus came inside him with a grunt and then collapsed onto him, panting, and promptly fell asleep, Vennon found himself losing interest in his own climax. He simply lay there and lost himself to his thoughts.

The man’s name had been Lucio. He was a mage, though not a magister, and had held himself in a way that made Venn think he hated everyone in that building, though the words he spoke said differently. He was respectful of all the great mages present, but something in the way he looked at them, especially after they’d looked away, told Venn that the young man’s mind was entirely different from what he projected. Then their eyes had met. Vennon had felt his ears twitch and lowered his gaze immediately. He’d promised his master that he’d be on his best behavior, and he’d intended to do just that. Meeting the gaze of a man of even Lucio’s status could have ruined him. But Lucio was not the kind of man to use that against someone, it seemed.

“I haven’t seen you before,” Lucio had whispered later that night, strategically standing near Vennon, but not speaking directly at him or even looking in his direction. Venn had glanced around discreetly at first, honestly doubting that the man’s words had been intended for himself. “Yes, you, elf,” Lucio had chuckled. Surreal.

“I’m...a slave, Ser,” Vennon had whispered back, against all common sense.

“Oh, I know that. Strange he hasn’t paraded you out sooner, though. You new to his hold?”

“No, Ser. I’ve been with my master since I was a child.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

And that had been all. The man had wandered off to some other corner of the room and Vennon had returned his full attention to his master, who had thankfully not noticed a second of his interaction with the stranger. It wasn’t until later, when Lucio walked over and introduced himself to Adalus, striking up some sort of conversation, that Vennon learned his name. Adalus and Lucio had both known of each other, but had never talked, which Adalus declared a pity, since it seemed that Lucio’s family had been partnered with his own a few generations ago. They spoke for a while, and Lucio’s gaze didn’t stray in Vennon’s direction not for a single moment.

Vennon had initially decided to forget about the whole thing, but Lucio found another opportunity to speak to him a while later. Adalus was locked in a heated conversation with an old partner of his when Lucio approached Vennon again. Venn made sure not to meet his gaze this time.

“You deserve more than he gives you, you know.”

“Pardon, Ser?” The statement caught him by surprise. Though Vennon hadn’t been born a slave, he owed everything he had to Master Adalus. The man had been nothing but patient with him, which Vennon had learned the hard way was not something to be expected when you were an elf living in the Tevinter Imperium.

“Like a bird in a gilded cage. I have a few elven friends outside the empire. I’m sure they’d love to take you in, should you decide you do not like how things are.”

“Pardon, Ser,” Vennon repeated, though his tone was a lot less confused and a lot more affronted this time around. “What you speak of is betrayal of my Master.”

“It is,” Lucio agreed easily, surprising the breath out of Venn. “I’m not asking you to do anything. I just wanted to let you know you do have another option. Just in case your acceptance of the status quo was merely a survival tactic. Think on it, boy.”

He hadn’t intended to. Vennon loved his master, flaws and all. Except that the thoughts came to him unbidden regardless, keeping him up for most of the night for a very long time.

 

Adalus was an older man, but he was far from incapable and far from senile. He had a good few decades ahead of him, especially with the force of his magic urging him forward. Though he was often distractible, that was less of a fault of his mind and more one of his character, his thoughts often fleeing to the subject of his studies, especially since he had such a great lack of interest in most other things. As of late, the two things that held his attentions the most were his studies and Vennon. He’d often found the boy’s company pleasant, but the shift in their relationship had only made the elf more vital to him. The boy held a spot in Adalus’s life that no other person had been allowed in all his years of living. Because of this, it didn’t take him too long to notice when Vennon’s behavior towards him changed.

It was small things at first, which was the reason he didn’t notice straight away. It was a slight hesitation when Adalus gave him an order, a certain tightness to his mouth when Adalus took him to bed. Though the boy still seemed to enjoy himself, it felt as if his attention wasn’t truly there anymore. Adalus noticed, but didn’t quite know what to do about it. It wasn’t even something tangible. He rehearsed conversations in his head that sounded half as insane as they would have aloud, and that was insane enough. So he waited, and he went on as usual, waiting for the moment to come when things would come to a head. Which they did.

“Say that one more time,” he ordered, his voice soft and controlled despite the words that he had just heard coming out of his slave’s mouth.

“I’m sorry, Master,” Vennon said. He sounded contrite, hesitant, but he carried on regardless. “I do not wish to do that today.”

“You do not wish to do what, exactly?” Adalus asked, needing clarification in the same way that one needs to pick at a scab.

“Have sex,” the boy clarified, shameless, oblivious to what it was that he was doing. “Sir,” he finished a second later, as if it made anything better.

“You must be kidding,” Adalus laughed, setting his glass down and reaching for the boy. He wrapped an arm around the kid’s waist and drew him in. Though the boy came, he came with some resistance. “I asked you to take your clothes off, boy,” Adalus said, “and you will.”

“But, Master--”

“You keep saying that word,” he interrupted, his grip on the elf tightening, “but you do not seem to remember what it means. Allow me to remind you.”

He dragged Vennon to his bed himself. That was the first time Vennon actively fought him, and he fought him the whole way there. Adalus was stronger than him physically, but just barely. But Adalus had magic at his command, and he had a healthy amount of it. He used it to sap at the elf’s strength, making his legs stumble as Adalus tossed him onto his bed, where he landed with a gasp. Vennon realized by that point that Adalus was going to fuck him regardless of the willingness of his participation. He let out little cries, little pleas for Adalus to stop.

“Just today,” he gasped, pushing at Adalus’s chest as the older man climbed on top of him. “Please no.”

“Shut up,” Adalus growled and called more of his magic to his aid, drawing power from the Fade to tie the boy’s wrists down, to stop his legs from kicking. Vennon whined but stopped struggling, panting as the restraints on his hands loosened enough to allow some blood flow once more. He choked down a sob as the magister tore through his clothes, as he tugged his own trousers down low enough to draw his member out. The mage wasn’t completely hard, not yet, but Vennon doubted it was going to make a difference. Sure enough, the man was straddling his head a moment later, shoving his half-hard dick against Vennon’s mouth. Vennon’s lips parted instinctively and he hated him for it. The older man’s dick slid over his tongue and bumped against the back of his throat, getting a little harder with each thrust. The taste was familiar, a little musky and a little salty, and he hated himself even more when his own dick twitched out of habit of memory.

He closed his eyes, feeling tears sliding down the sides of his face, choking a little as Adalus’s cock lengthened a little in growth as he got hard all the way. He could feel his spit spreading across his lips, a dribble of drool sliding down his chin, where Adalus’s balls kept hitting. His mouth was full and his dick was getting hard and he hated all of it.

He took a gasping breath when he found his mouth empty suddenly, and he opened his eyes to find the mage drawing back one of his hands. Vennon didn’t realize what he was doing until the man had swung his arm around, slapping him hard enough to make his ears ring. He hit him again, and then again, and Vennon sobbed out loud, tugging at his invisible restraints until they started to hurt again. He was so dizzy he didn’t realize it when Adalus flipped him over so he was now lying face-down. He gasped into the mattress, whining loudly when he felt the other man’s spit-slick cock sliding between his ass cheeks. The man lay on top of him, pressing down on him with all of his weight as his hips worked, cockhead searching blindly.

“Please stop,” he cried, squeezing his eyes shut again. Adalus bit at his earlobe and then groaned loudly as he finally found Vennon’s entrance. “Stop, stop,” Vennon started to chant, but Adalus didn’t even hesitate. His hips thrust hard and fast, burying himself into Vennon quick, deep, and unrelentingly. 

“You are mine, boy,” Adalus growled into his ear, his thighs slapping against Venn’s loudly. “Have you forgotten that?” He wormed a hand under Vennon’s body, though it was a little difficult, to grasp at the boy’s cock. Vennon screamed into the mattress, tugging pointlessly at his restraints. Adalus didn’t have the leverage or the allowance to jerk him off as the boy’s unwanted erection was being pressed into the bed by two bodies, but he held it loosely, and each one of Adalus’s rough thrusts worked Vennon’s dick through his grasp well enough.

Vennon screamed again, but his cry turned into a whine and then into a gasp as Adalus wrapped another invisible restraint around his neck and squeezed. He left it just loose enough that Vennon could still breathe, but that it was difficult enough and required enough effort that the boy couldn’t afford to scream anymore. Adalus’s grunts got louder as he continued to fuck the elf into the soft sheets, and the restraints got tighter as his attention slipped. Vennon’s eyes bulged as he took one last deep breath, then couldn’t breathe anymore. Adalus bit down on his shoulder hard enough to hurt--and Vennon came, shuddering, a new wave of tears streaking down his reddening cheeks.

“That’s my boy,” Adalus said, panting, sounding both pleased and exhausted as he loosened all of the restraints. He must have come as well. Vennon gasped for breath, choking against a sudden rush of bile in his throat as the mage pulled away, his softening dick sliding out of him and drawing a thin dribble of cum out with it. Now that he was done with him, Adalus let his spell drop. He placed his hands on Vennon’s ass cheeks and pulled them apart softly, doubtlessly wanting to watch as his seed started to spill out. Vennon grit his teeth, feeling it sliding out of him, feeling the wet spot he was lying on where he had come as well, feeling the hot rage boil up inside of him.

Adalus hadn’t expected an actual attack. No one had ever outright attacked him before, not outside of a duel. He’d most certainly never expected that his slave, even when he was being rebellious, and especially not now that Adalus was come-drunk and sated. He hadn’t seen it coming, so he didn’t react in time to save himself.

Vennon’s elbow struck the magister right in the temple, stunning him. He gasped as a lancing pain shot through his head sharp enough to disrupt any instinctive spell he might have cast at the time. Vennon wasn’t stupid--he knew what was going to happen once the magister got control of his faculties again, so he reached over to the little table next to the bed, grasped the first solid thing he could find, and swung hard. The mage fell out of bed with a loud cry. Vennon was on him a moment later, hitting him again and again. He was crying out as well, but he didn’t realize it until he noticed the magister’s lifeless gaze through bloodshot eyes.

The man was dead.

Vennon sat there panting for a long time. There was blood everywhere, on Vennon as well as seeping into the carpet surrounding them. It was a miracle of sorts that none of the other slaves or servants hadn’t heard the noise and come to investigate, though Vennon realized they had probably all heard him screaming earlier and were keeping their distance. 

He stood on trembling legs, knowing that he really had just one option now. He felt a small stream of come sliding down his leg and he sobbed quietly, glancing around for something to wipe up with. There was so much blood. He wondered if he’d have time to wash up before the rest of the staff decided it was safe to come near the room again.

It wouldn’t take long for the magister’s murder to be discovered. Chances were high that Vennon would be found, caught, and punished. He could only pray that his death would come swiftly, and not after years of brutal punishment. Still, he wasn’t going to accept his fate so easily. He’d come this far, and he remembered Lucio’s words. He didn’t know how to find the man, but he was certainly going to try.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if I missed any tags. I'm always missing tags.


End file.
